


L'Autre Monde

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Seer, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette grew up with a fantasy world in her head that told her the upcoming events of her life before they even happened. When her reality overtakes her dreams, she finds herself drawn to someone that had never been featured in them in the first place. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Autre Monde

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I just wanted to write some smut without plot but this went way out of control, and I didn't want to continue anything until it was finished. But, yeah... Marinette's pretty fucked up and then she gets fucked. Great plot.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/174340711156).

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

She dreamed of another world; where a belt was fastened around a boy's waist and flapping gloriously in the wind, and a bandalore could incapacitate a rogue scoundrel with a flick of a wrist. There were bright, vibrant and eye-catching colours and from the moment her hands could grip a crayon protectively, the young girl drew the mystical world swirling within her thoughts with flushed cheeks and cerulean eyes full of happiness.

When her first word was certainly not her parents' names—as they were nowhere near to anything feline—they had swept their toddling daughter into their arms and escorted her to the nearest hospital. The doctor assured her parents that nothing was wrong with her; or, rather, explained that she possessed an advanced and active imagination, and there was nothing to fear. Their worries were soothed, albeit for only a short period of time.

She drew countless pictures of a black cat, and as her collection of drawing utensils grew and her fumbling fingers grew stronger, it became clear that the feline was a human, in fact. As her age progressed along with the marks on a doorway to indicate her height, more features of her imaginary friend became clear.

“His name's Chat Noir!” Marinette explained in a bubbly voice one day, offended that her mother had started to refer to him as her first word, even though they had come to accept his involvement in their life, with time. “Not Kitty!”

“Okay,” her mother soothed, running a hand through her daughter's black tresses of hairs. “Can you tell me more about him?”

The little girl huffed audibly, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I can have some ca-camembert,”she stumbled over her words, stubbornly jutting her lower lip out at the error.

They fulfilled the strange request, wondering where their daughter had heard of the particular cheese as her pre-school class-mates weren't fond of her, as she was always wrapped up in her own world. Marinette wrinkled her nose in disgust at the first bite, so they disappeared with the cheese again before returning with it melted with crackers for her to dip in. Although she scrunched her facial features with every bite, she diligently worked through the food.

In the end the only information they received for the odd meal was, “He carries cam- _camembert_ in his pockets.”

They didn't question it.

When she entered primary school, Marinette was involved in her first fight. When she met a young girl named Chloé, with bright golden hair and blue eyes, she'd swatted her on the nose with her piece of paper. The teacher had explained that Marinette had said, “ _Ladybug will never be your friend_!” They separated the two of them after that; Chloé's father had been awfully offended and attempted to have her change schools, but the headmaster had cooed that the dark-haired girl was one of their brightest students.

A teacher asked them to write about their best friend. Many wrote about their pets, from rabbits, puppies and even a rat, though Marinette was the only one to write about a cat; or, rather, that's what the teacher had assumed.

“Chat Noir is my best friend!” she announced, waving her arms excitedly along with her words paired with her bright cerulean shining eyes. “He's super fast and even helps out strangers! Stranger danger doesn't mean anything to him—is he a _god_? Mama said only those above us can ignore the rules.”

The teacher reached forward tentatively. “Marinette...”

“He even calls me a lady!” She grinned, showing off a missing tooth. “And he's so funny!”

When the teacher spoke to her parents to warn them about a potential stranger lurking around their daughter, they awkwardly explained that Chat Noir had been her imaginary friend for the longest time.

Marinette had taken to tying her hair into twin-tails. Her mother had tried to style her hair different daily, so the other children wouldn't be rude about the amount of care she received, but every time the young girl would stubbornly tug on the strands of her hair and asked for it to be different; shorter, with red ribbons and a fringe. Eventually, by the time she was eight, her mother complied with her daughter's wishes that she'd been harping on about for years.

When her hair had changed, the pictures did, too. Chat Noir was no longer alone upon crudely drawn backgrounds; he had an equally scribbled companion clad all in bright red with a face mask that covered everything apart from two blobs of blue. There were a plethora of different images, but in all of them the two figures were touching in some way; from knuckles connecting with each other, arms thrown around shoulders, and even holding hands when the background was dark. Her parents voiced their concerns about the night images, but Marinette did not share their thoughts. She'd hug the piece of paper protectively to her chest, telling them not to be mean to her Chat.

Chloé had never grown out of her grudge. They constantly bickered within classes—as that was the only complaint upon Marinette's report card—so when the dark-haired girl was bouncing around their home one morning, her parents questioned what was going on.

“Only the cosmic universe, of course!” Marinette giggled, placing her hands over her mouth to stifle the noise.

They didn't question her until later that evening, when news of Chloé's injury had reached their ears. Marinette shook her head and denied she had anything to do with it—she'd been in the classroom, after all, as the blonde had stormed out of the classroom in a tantrum.

She covered her mouth again. “She'll fall again next week, though.”

And Chloé did. The blonde had shoved her closest friend away in the classroom, and ended up falling from her seat onto the ground. Her parents didn't need to know, though.

It was reassuring that that world she had grown up in, seeing it through her own eyes when she was drowsy or asleep, hadn't failed her. Although she knew it was different—as when she'd saw her reflection there, she was considerably older and hadn't aged, if at all, through the years—there were still similarities. Her counterpart (as that was the accurate description for the other Marinette) had reminisced about Chloé's injuries when the older blonde female was rude, and that seemed to follow through into her world.

There wasn't much that could surprise her. Through the years the other world—the correct term, she told herself—was harder to reach; meaning, Chat Noir was, too. She could only access the depths of her subconscious and therefore reach the other world in her dreams when she hit her teenage years. There were journals upon journals stored within her drawers, cataloguing the different encounters she'd seen with her companion over the years.

It didn't scare her. When she reached her counterpart, she lost the control of the body she was inside. She saw through her eyes; felt, smelled and _tasted_ everything that she did, and shared the same feelings. The fluttering within her chest when Chat Noir smiled toothily and cracked a strange pun, the minute feeling of irritation when he flirted with her normal self—when she wasn't clad in a red and black suit and jumping around the rooftops of Paris with her trusty bandalore. Everything was perfect there, and by growing up seeing the images flashing before her very eyes, she knew that it would somewhat translate into her world.

Her counterpart had a trusty friend with vibrant red hair named Alya. She was the closest friend she had in her normal (civilian?) form. Although Chloé was mean and very judgemental, as she was in her current world, too, she knew that in time, she'd have class-mates that would be actively terrorised by the blonde, too. They would be put through tests and trials, by a strange villain— _no._ That wasn't right. There wouldn't be heroes in this world with her, would there? She wouldn't turn into her counterpart's crime fighting form, and Chat Noir wouldn't be standing beside her, flicking his belt-tail with the wind.

Time would tell if she was seeing the future or simply seeing images from another Marinette. There was no one she could go to, for sure—when she'd frantically searched the library for any type of clues, she had been shoved towards the topic of fortune tellers, and that was _all_. Some had claimed to see the future, but they had been proven wrong soon after.

On her twelfth birthday, Marinette was losing hope. Although she could see the important events that had occurred—mainly, from her counterpart's flashbacks—it had been too many years for her to not learn anything new about it. If she was lucky, she could see into the other world once a week—but it was getting _worse_.

By the time she was thirteen, Marinette was withdrawn and answered any questions with a dream-like quality to her voice. She immersed herself in the different journals, ticking the edges of the paper when the event had happened in her own world.

They were running out, though. The flashbacks before she had a bandalore thrust into her hand and when her counterpart had met the blond-haired male who she'd fight rogues with. Through all the different scenes and scenarios that they'd been together through, Marinette had come to a daunting conclusion; her counterpart, the other Marinette, had no idea who Chat Noir's civilian form was. The male with his bright emerald eyes behind a black mask had constantly tried to coax her, while flirting and whispering compliments to her flushed ears, and Marinette became increasingly frustrated with her others self as it slowly dawned on her that she, too, had began to have a fixation upon the leather-clad male.

Her counterpart had feelings for him, too. She just didn't want to act on them on fear of her partner being in danger if they were involved; Marinette assumed that was why he wasn't acting on them, too, she supposed.

Despite her constant scribbling in her journals, she managed to complete her schoolwork and homework in time. The only complaint, other than her young-aged rivalry with Chloé (who she mostly ignored since secondary school), was that they believed she wasn't... okay.

Marinette scribbled the leather belt she was fond of on a stick figure, smilingly serenely to herself.

There were two new additions to the class. Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, eyes flickering from the red-head that she recognised as her counterpart's best friend, and the blonde male that was... unknown to her.

There hadn't been any changes from what she knew. There hadn't been an instance where the other Marinette had reminisced about him, nor had he been present in _any_ of the scenes she witnessed for herself. Who— _how_ was he here?

“You shouldn't exist,” she hissed under her breath, fingers squeezing the hair around her temples in frustration. The mere fact that she was wrong—or that something was odd, not occurring as it should—had her feeling anxious and clammy, a rising panic surging through her body.

And yet, he did. The blond introduced himself as Adrien Agreste—the son of a famous designer, one that her counterpart was very much interested in. Although she knew the father, as he was _still_ famous in her world, she couldn't recall that he had a son.

But that was all that was changed. Alya still had younger sisters, and chattered happily away to her when they were seated together in class. Adrien quickly befriended Nino, and the dark-haired female spent the time where she wasn't scribbling in her journals staring at the back of his head, at the well coiffed head of golden hair, wondering why he was an anomaly within the life she knew.

-x-

Alya never questioned her drawings. One afternoon during a rather tedious lesson, the red-headed female reached into her bag and pushed an object onto the other side of the desk. Marinette stilled, the lead of her pencil snapping and creating an ugly mark upon the pristine paper.

A bandalore. Exactly like she'd been drawing; scarlet with a loop around the top to pop her finger inside, with precisely five ebony dots upon the top.

“I hope you don't mind,” the red-head started tentatively. “I wanted to give you something, so I altered this for you.”

Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly. “It's perfect,” she croaked, voice cracking towards the end.

Their relationship seemed rather one-sided. Alya jabbered on about her latest topic, and she would nod or hum in agreement or disapproval in return, and it would be an endless cycle. Marinette didn't talk often, out of choice, so when she'd replied to her friend beside her, Alya burst into a wide grin and wrapped her arms around the dark-haired female's shoulders and hugged her tightly.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng and Miss Césaire! If you feel the need to coddle each other, please do it _outside_ of my lesson,” the teacher harrumphed, eyes narrowed at the pair.

Marinette toyed with her bandalore often. Between sketching Chat Noir and her counterpart, gazing with a serene expression and glazed eyes at the back of the blond-haired male's head, she found time to twirl the object around, mostly within her room. When she started to swing it around with a small smile playing upon her lips, Alya had remarked that she seemed... experienced. Happier when holding it, and, for some reason, Alya noticed that she didn't play with it like everyone else did.

Chloé had found a new fixation. Much like Marinette, the blonde gazed at the back of Adrien's head—except she was across the room, while Marinette was sat behind him. Marinette watched their interactions with interest, realising with a start that Chloé was infatuated with him— _Chloé_ , the personification of irritation and everything negative bundled into a human form with pristine hair and bright blue eyes.

“Adrien!” Chloé called, darting across the room and linking her arm through his. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Papa's hired my favourite chef.”

As always, Adrien denied the invitation politely and excused himself, walking into the distance with Nino.

“You've got it bad, girl,” Alya remarked beside her, jabbing her lightly in the ribs.

Marinette tilted her to the side in question, eyes unwavering.

“Adrien,” the red-head explained, lips twitching from trying to contain her smile. “I won't tease you, but the rest of the class will catch on soon—why don't you try to talk to him before that?”

Marinette blinked. “Why would I do that?” she asked in a soft voice.

Alya's eyebrows knitted together briefly in confusion before she rolled her eyes, dismissing the subject as she chattered about her favourite television show that was currently airing—while she liked actions, murder and gore, Marinette enjoyed light background music while she relaxed into pillows in her free time.

She hadn't visited the other world for weeks—since the day before Alya and Adrien had been woven into the classroom. Desperately in search for her feline-themed companion, Marinette searched for the sleeping pills hidden within the bathroom, taking two quickly and disappearing into her room before her parents could scold her. She knew the risks of taking them—the addiction that could come hand-in-hand—but it was worth it, just to catch a glimpse of what was going on with her other self.

When she awoke, with limbs moving that were not under her control and no longer able to will herself to do anything, Marinette could have cried with joy. She watched her counterpart's life through her eyes, a warmth bubbling within her chest—both of their chests—when Chat Noir, in his black leather suit that was skin-tight with the endearing tail-belt wrapped around his waist and a bell attached to his neck, smiled at her genuinely. He had small, almost there dimples on both of his cheeks when he was sincere, she noticed. She lived through three days in the life of her other self; watching the duo take down a villain, flirt hopelessly with each other, before appearing in school at the start of the week. With a start, she began to recognise the class more; or, rather, recognise the looks and style that each and every one of them were wearing.

She'd caught up in her own world. Class-mates were donning their counterparts' exact hairstyles and facial features—she was old enough to prove that, indeed, there were not going to be any heroes or villains in her world.

But still, there would be Chat Noir's civilian form. He would still be the same gentle, friendly and warm-hearted person that she had grown up loving.

Shock travelled through her when she caught sight of a familiar mop of blond hair in the other world. Adrien was sat in the seat in front of her, happily chatting away with Nino enthusiastically, and all she could think was—he shouldn't _be_ there. He had never been there! Nino had sat alone—Nino had _been_ alone—and yet even Chloé's fixation on Adrien had been transferred over to there.

But how? She shouldn't have been able to influence the other world—it shouldn't work like that! Even with all her theories on what was actually happening, she'd just assumed she was an odd type of seer; but this—this enigma that had popped up within the depths of her secured mind, was baffling.

How had he done it? The blond had, unknowingly, penetrated to her subconscious and wormed himself into her counterpart's world, and made it seem as though he was always there.

She knew he hadn't.

He didn't belong.

To make her revelation worse, her counterpart had made her feelings clear about her opinion on the blond. She was... Marinette, the other Marinette, was tripping over herself and stumbling over her words whenever trying to converse with him. It became clear that she was infatuated with him, and it only became more apparent from there. When they arrived home after the shocking day of school, she noticed that the bare pink walls of her bedroom had changed. There was a wall dedicated to different modelling images of Adrien, in various designer outfits, and she even found his schedule taped onto the wall with circles around specific times.

It was another appearance that couldn't be explained. That morning none of the possessions had been present, and yet, they were when she entered the room. Even the picture on the background of her computer was of his face; the striking emerald eyes, slightly tanned skin and barely there dimples as he smiled at the camera.

When she awoke in her own body, Marinette jerked out of bed and slipped down the ladder of her bunk bed, hands running through her hair erratically as she gazed around the room. The walls were bare, the pale pink splattering of paint being the only decoration to be seen.

She sighed in relief.

Through class she played with her bandalore, idly pulling it back with force to land perfectly in her palm countless times.

She'd assumed her counterpart was in love with Chat Noir, but that wasn't the case. Perhaps, just she, not the _other_ Marinette, was in the end. Her counterpart was deeply infatuated with Adrien Agreste, rather than the kind-hearted male that was constantly by her side, and that... infuriated her. What did Adrien have that Chat Noir did not?

Adrien didn't have puns that could brighten her day.

Adrien couldn't twirl on the end of his baton, or perform acrobatic movements that were certainly not for beginners.

Adrien didn't whisper ' _my lady_ ' in a soft tone that made her knees weak.

And yet, when Chloé shamelessly invited him out for a date while standing in front of a desk within her vision, Marinette reacted the only way she knew how to when surprised—she reacted as her counterpart would have, if she were disguised.

Marinette secured her finger in the small loop and swung her arm purposely, watching in disguised fascination as the bullet of scarlet soared across the room, wrapping the cord like a rope around the blonde's neck before hitting her square in the forehead with the body of the bandalore. Chloé squawked in pain and shock, taking a step backwards resulting in the cord constricting from the movement.

“Marinette!” Alya was the first to respond, placing a concerned hand on her arm.

“Nuisance,” she murmured in her dream-like voice, glazed over eyes boring into Chloé's shocked ones.

To her surprise, Adrien burst into spurts of genuine, slightly breathy and stuttering laughter. He covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound, but soon their class-mates caught onto the predicament—eyes trailing to see Chloé trapped within a coil of a bandalore and her disgruntled expression—and began to laugh, too.

Even if she didn't hold any romantic feelings towards the male, the other Marinette did—therefore, she felt it was necessary to protect what her other self wanted to call hers. Seeing Chloé place her hand upon his forearm had sparked an awful feeling within her stomach, and she'd idly identified it as jealously. But who was it jealousy for, though? If this male with his neatly styled hair and bright eyes had managed to snag her counterpart's heart up, she wanted to know _how_ he was superior to Chat Noir, rather than ignore him completely.

So when he unravelled the infuriated blonde and handed her back her bandalore with a fond smile while saying, “Thank you,” she didn't restrain the soft smile from her lips.

-x-

It seemed she'd befriended him unknowingly. Adrien sent small smiles her way whenever their eyes met; which meant whenever he caught her staring at the back of his head. She'd blink slowly in return, unsure whether the sudden friendliness was in her favour for the plan. They hadn't actually progressed into conversation yet, and Alya found their interactions absolutely hilarious.

One afternoon when the red-head was absent from illness, Marinette was sketching upon a spare table outside, waiting for lunch break to be over so she could return to the warmth of the classroom.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Marinette turned her head slowly, meeting the almost shy expression on the blond-haired male's face. She blinked, surprised, before nodding her head.

He was the only one that could surprise her, she'd noticed.

“I've realised we've never actually spoken before,” Adrien started, taking a seat across from her. There was no lunch present—had he eaten already? “I'm Adrien, but you already know that.”

She looked at his face; his gaze was intent with a softness to his bright eyes.

“Yes,” she replied dreamily.

He thrust a hand forward across the table, offering it in greeting to shake. “You're Marinette,” he continued for her.

She breathed out. “Yes,” Marinette repeated.

His hand hovered in the air as his expression turned unsure.

Marinette reached into her bag, withdrawing a baked treat from her lunch and placed it gently onto his open hand.

Rather than question the gesture, Adrien accepted the offered macaron and took a small bite, eyes blinking in surprise at the taste. “It's really good,” he commented when he'd swallowed.

When he'd finished the first, small and palm-sized macaron, Marinette tilted her head to the side in question, silently asking a question.

He seemed to catch on, though. A lot faster than Alya had when their friendship had just begun. “I'm on a particularly strict diet,” Adrien explained, a hand nervously touching the back of his neck in quite the endearing gesture—she'd seen that before; her counterpart was fond of his shyness, particularly when he was put on the spot by questions. “This is actually the first non-healthy thing I've eaten for quite a few months now.”

Still with her head tilted, Marinette blinked.

“Not that this is horrible!” Adrien backtracked, cheeks dusted with a light pink. “It's _really_ nice and I really appreciate you sharing with me.” The colouration from his cheekbones grew, spreading the tips of his ears that were just visible through the short, golden strands of hair.

Marinette retrieved another macaron from her bag, stretching across the table to place it within his hand. “Eat,” she whispered, staring into his emerald eyes. If he was ranked above Chat Noir in her counterpart's eyes, than he would need to be stronger than one would be on a usual model's diet, she reasoned.

And so, he accepted the food offered and ate it slowly with a small smile.

-x- 

He continued to smile at her during lessons.

Marinette returned the gesture dreamily, pausing in her drawing of Chat Noir leaping across the rooftops of Paris. The red-head beside her constantly had a giddy expression from their interactions, but Marinette was simply acting upon her curiosity; meaning, she'd ignore the light jabs to her ribs and raised eyebrows to attempt to see why her counterpart had fallen in love with him.

It was clear to see, to anyone, really, that Adrien Agreste was attractive. He had a fair complexion and clean skin, strikingly bright emerald irides that contrasted sweetly to his golden hair that was brushed elegantly to the sides, allowing his eyebrows and part of his forehead to be seen. He was the definition of a golden boy—attractive, unattainable, and a heartbreaker, if he chose to be. He held the precious heart of her other self in his hands, and had no idea about it (much the same that Chat Noir held hers, and had no inkling that she existed).

While she was concentrating on drawing Chat Noir's furious expression one afternoon, a snippet of a conversation from the desk in front of her caught her attention.

“I'm just being _paw_ -lite!”

Nino chortled, hitting the blond firmly in the shoulder. “You need to stop the cat puns—they're atrocious!”

Cat puns—cat puns right in front of her! Marinette gripped her pencil lightly, wide eyes staring at the back of Adrien's head, as if seeing him in a new light. If he uttered such puns on a regular basis, much like a feline-themed male she was all too fond of, then perhaps he wasn't too bad, was he?

“Why would I?” Adrien replied, grinning wolfishly.

Nino threw his hands in the air, tone laced with exasperation. “There's only so many you can do, and you're starting to repeat yourself.”

So _what_ if he repeated them? As long as it wasn't the same context or exact sentence, then there was no problem—she spent a good decade and more years listening to them and had no problems!

“That's not the right cat-titude to have,” Marinette replied, unblinking eyes staring at the back of Nino's head.

Alya spluttered before bursting into laughter, throwing her arm around the dark-haired female and whispering affectionate words underneath her breath. Nino's reaction was incredulous, mostly, before his eyes darted between her and the blond beside him, as though he was seeing the interaction between them for the first time—she could count on both hands the amount of times she'd spoken to the curly-haired Nino since pre-school, and, apparently, he remembered those times well.

“I suppose you're a kindred spirit,” Adrien remarked, the smile showing his tiny dimples.

Marinette tilted her head quizzically to the side.

His smile grew at her action.

After his display of a delightful sense of humour, Marinette paid more attention to his conversations in class. Although Alya joined in with the two males seated within the desk in front of them, Marinette kept herself distant, just to jot down the different puns that he uttered to see how consistent he was. He uttered quite a few, but hadn't beaten Chat Noir's record of fifteen within a single afternoon (yet).

When she accessed the other world without the help of sleeping pills, Marinette was overjoyed. Waking up within her counterpart's room with Adrien's pictures littering the walls didn't scare her—in fact, she was curious to see what she could learn about his and the other Marinette's interactions. They arrived at school early, just to see him arrive via chauffeur, and Marinette watched in amusement as her counterpart was overjoyed to see how _sleepy_ and positively disgruntled Adrien looked from the interaction with his chauffeur.

She was taking advantage of the information that was slowly being revealed. Her counterpart had knit and stitched Adrien a scarf for his birthday, so she did much the same. It had taken some time to create, as her fingers were much more used to sketching rather than creating clothing, but in the end the pale blue material of the scarf was much the same, and the design was an exact replica. Marinette wrapped it in wrapping paper, tied a bow with ribbon around it and placed a tag with her name upon it.

The other Marinette had failed to convey that the gift was from her. She wouldn't be the same, however.

She knew when he arrived via chauffeur. Marinette stood on the stairs in front of their school, present clutched and pushed against her chest as she rocked on her heels, watching the sleek car pull upon within her vision.

Adrien waved his chauffeur good-bye and turned around, visibly surprised to see her, alone, while the rest of the students were trailing inside. The whimsical female usually arrived early, and either toyed with her bandalore within the classroom or sketched another scenario within her journals; and yet, there she was, smiling serenely at him as he blinked, bewildered.

“Hello,” Adrien greeted, clearing his throat after it cracked.

She blinked.

“You're outside,” he continued.

It wasn't hard to see why he was popular; clad in designer trousers that clung to his long, slender legs, and a t-shirt that brushed against his abdomen that she was sure was a healthy colour, while the short-sleeved shirt that was left open, free to be directed by the wind—but it wasn't a belt wrapped around his waist that could be manipulated by the wind. It wasn't fully emerald eyes that stained onto his eyeballs behind a mask that she was staring at intently. Perhaps, if his hair was ruffled, and free—perhaps if _he_ was free, free from the strict diet and career—

“For you,” Marinette whispered, holding the brightly-coloured present towards him.

Adrien blinked slowly. And blinked again. “For me?” he repeated.

She tilted her head to the side, and the movement caused his dimples to show from trying to restrain his laughter.

“Thank you,” the blond said, tucking the present underneath his arm.

Marinette blinked. “You should open it now.”

Bemused, Adrien secured his bag on his back before carefully untying the bow, making sure not to damage the ribbon. Rocking on her heels in place, Marinette smiles in encouragement when he looked at her from under his thick lashes in question. She knew that he liked the present in the other world—there shouldn't have been much of a difference in her own.

He squeezed the material of the scarf in his hands, fingers rubbing soothing circles into the fabric as he became aware of how soft it was. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“It's not purr-ple.”

Adrien visibly bit into his bottom lip to stifle his laughter. “No need to a-paw-logise,” he responded.

He may not have had black cat ears upon his mop of blond hair, but the puns were almost perfect. Marinette smiled in return, cheeks dusting a delicate pink when she pondered how Chat Noir would react if the other Marinette managed to gift him a birthday present.

-x-

They were sixteen when Adrien asked her on a date.

Her access to the other world had dwindled drastically. Although Marinette had been distressed at first, she had to look at the facts—she had began to overtake her counterpart in age. Through the years she'd seen the other Marinette at the tender age of the early teenage years, and since there were no heroes and villains in her own world, the amount of information she would be able to transfer and use to her advantage was disappearing. It wasn't as though she could find a winning lottery ticket, after all.

All good things had to come to an end; therefore, Chat Noir had to come to an end, too.

He wasn't hers. He was her counterpart's, when she finally admitted her feelings to herself and realised that fumbling after her class-mate wasn't the best course of action—Marinette firmly believed the best thing her other self could have done would be to reveal who her civilian form was, just so Chat Noir would do the same. But, alas, it wasn't happening that way.

Marinette flicked through the last page of her journal, the last entry of the other world that was up-to-date, and sighed into her open palm.

She couldn't see into the future any more (if it could have been classed as that in the first place). There was no feeling of glee in knowing that Chloé would hurt herself, or that some of her class-mates were unknowingly infatuated with each other. There was no Chat Noir to look forward to as he smiled ever so crookedly and said sweet words upon the rooftops.

And so, when Alya suggested they go to dinner with the two males that were still seated in front of them, Marinette didn't object. The red-head burst into her room—by permission of the dark-haired female's parents—and threw a plethora of clothing her way; a black dress with a dark green lace trim around the short sleeves with the slightly pleated skirt that hung just above her knees, a ebony cardigan for the cool weather and a dark knitted hat. She didn't object when Alya pulled the ever-present twin-tails and fluffed her hair, making it reach her collarbones as it fluttered around freely.

It was a simple dinner, really; somewhere where students could order pizza while sitting at a table with chequered tablecloths, and either sit closely beside each other or across the table. Alya nudged her to sit beside Adrien, taking her own seat with Nino and pressing their shoulders together fondly. They had been dating for four months, and were bursting with happiness whenever they smiled at each other within the classroom—it was quite distracting.

Slipping into the seat beside the blond, he flashed her a genuine smile and pushed the tiny, tattered menu towards her.

“What do you normally eat?” he asked.

Marinette blinked. “Not sure.”

He didn't question the strange answer. Scooting over slightly, he trailed his fingers across the laminated paper and began to point out different things. He explained that it was Nino's favourite place to eat when they were out, so the couple in front of the frequented it often enough to not need to look at the menu to see what they'd like to select. Adrien had only been a handful of times, but he was trying to explain the pros and cons of each dish.

“Does anything have camembert?” she questioned.

Adrien wrinkled his nose, but didn't comment on the choice. “That's one of the more adventurous ones, but yes.”

The smile he received in return to the answer was almost blinding.

The couple across the table were wrapped up in their own conversations, not glancing in their direction or trying to include the two of them in any way. Marinette shifted on the squishy double-seat, aware that the bare skin of her legs were sticking to the material.

“You normally say no to going out,” Adrien commented, fingers tapping rhythmically against the laminated menu. “What changed your mind?”

The lack of Chat Noir in her life—the fact that she'd passed her counterpart's age, and therefore couldn't see what was going to happen ahead of time. She was there, in their company, to attempt to feel like sudden void that had appeared within her chest.

“You,” she said, eyes following his fingers as they moved.

Her counterpart would've been red-faced and hyperventilating from being within such close distance of him.

“Oh,” Adrien said, blinking in surprise. He opened his mouth a couple of times to begin to talk, but chose to shut it every time. After moments had passed by, of her eyes darting back and forth as he ran his fingertips lightly over the stained wood of the table for a better sound, he finally asked, “Would you like to go out? I mean, outside—you know—just the two of us?”

Her gaze shifted to the splattered windows that were slowly being coated in rain and back to his befuddled expression.

Scratching the back of his neck, Adrien clarified, “I don't mean, well, now, but we could if you _wanted—_ not that I would say no. I mean, I'm trying to ask you on a date.”

“Adrien,” she said, tone softer than before.

It was the first time she'd actually addressed him, she realised. Adrien stopped babbling, the delicate skin of his cheeks and the tips of his ears colouring in embarrassment, and all she could think was—he wasn't _bad_.

Marinette swallowed.

As she gazed into his shy expression, noticing the dusting of blond on the ends of his long eyelashes, and the small dimples that were showing on his cheeks, she felt the blood rushing through her ears, heart pounding suddenly in a reaction that shouldn't have been her own—but it _was_. She realised with a start that she wasn't simply fixated on him and how he'd managed to worm his way into the other world any longer.

She was smitten with him.

-x- 

They'd arranged for ice cream the coming weekend. Her red-headed friend had fussed and moaned, practically putting herself within Marinette's wardrobe while trying to decide the appropriate outfit for her. Marinette, however, was befuddled by the sudden change in her attitude towards the blond-haired male; or, rather, why it had taken her so long to realise there had been genuine feelings building up between them. Clearly, Adrien reciprocated the feelings as well, which was a bonus that would've had her counterpart fainting in seconds. Being away from him during the evenings didn't help, though. When in the past her journals had been filled with rough sketches and intricate drawings of another blond-haired male, they had began to shift and be stripped of the black leather suit she was fond of. She'd found herself thinking of what food he liked that he wasn't allowed due to his diet, how he smiled when their eyes connected in class and— _goodness_ , it was astounding to realise just how dense she had been.

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, waiting outside of a lush green park, standing beside a bench that was stained with paint and splattered with rain. The outfit Alya had thrust upon her was practical, thankfully; a pale-coloured sweater that fell to the tops of her thighs, paired with dark-washed jeans that clung nicely to her otherwise cold legs. She'd discarded the twin-tails, letting the dark tresses brush against her collarbones once again.

He wasn't late. She was early, standing underneath her green and black umbrella.

When their eyes met, Marinette was playing with the sleeve of her sweater. He was tall, taller than she remembered when they had first met when she'd cursed him for existing, and the tiny amount of years had done wonders for his attractiveness (if that was possible). His hair was a golden halo framing his face, and the wide grin he sported as he stood in front of her, raising his umbrella so it was above hers—tall, very lean, her head came to his shoulders by then—could have been considered breathtaking.

Marinette pressed the release button of her umbrella and kept a straight expression, not squeaking in surprise when it collapsed around her face, causing rain to pour from the material down the arms of her sweater.

“Careful,” Adrien murmured, taking hold of the handle and pushing it to the side. His smile is sweet, genuine, and then he'd shuffled closer so she was fully covered from the downpour above. “Shall we go?”

She shook her umbrella, cheeks tinged a delicate pink, and wrapped the contraption up within itself and held it firmly in her left hand.

When she looked up, he was offering his hand, palm up and in an inviting gesture, much like he had done during lunch long ago. Marinette's eyes flickered between his open hand and the fond smile on his face, wondering if he was expecting a repeat from that scene—she had a wet umbrella in her possession, not baked goods. And so, she lifted her free hand and placed it slowly on top of his, simply letting her skin touch his in wonder.

His hand was soft and warm—exactly how she would describe his personality.

Adrien's lips were twitching as he linked their fingers and let their hands fall down between them. The umbrella was casting a shadow beneath them, though she could see a few droplets of rain caught in his hair.

“I'm paw-sitive this isn't ice cream weather,” he remarks.

Her chin wobbled as she tried to hold in her laughter, but it didn't work; quiet, breathy laughter escaped her lips from the mere fact that he'd uttered a cat pun while in a sudden downpour with a few splashes of rain on his pristine outfit.

She could feel that the skin of his hand was slightly callus, and as their hands moved due to her swinging their hands merrily, Marinette realised with a jolt that she didn't mind the close contact. The soft, fond smiles that were sent her way were returned heartily, and the sweet comments that left his rosy lips were welcomed, rather than unwanted. They prowled the soaked streets, stopping briefly to buy pairs of bright and luminous boots suitable for the weather at her request, and just seeing him enjoy himself in her presence had her face tinged pink from what was not the weather.

When they stopped in front of her home with empty stomachs and slightly soaked legs, wearing ridiculous boots that were more suited for children, Marinette was beaming happily and squeezed his hand to convey the feeling.

“I'd like to do this again,” Marinette started, pressing the tip of her obnoxious boot into the floor and tapping it consistently.

Adrien's eyes flickered between their joined hand—as he was still holding the umbrella over them, never giving into her request to do it herself due to their height difference—and the soft curve of her lips. “If that's what you wish for, princess,” he drawled, tone different from normal.

Marinette swallowed, mind racing at the implications of his words. Chat Noir had called her that—her civilian self—but to hear it from the male in front of her, who's shirt had began to patch with water and stick to his body in certain areas, had caused a more... mature reaction than from when she had been growing up. It had been a fond nickname, but to hear it falling from his lips, spoken in that low tone, was a completely different experience. Marinette breathed, eyes staring; searching, yearning and absolutely vulnerable as his hand slowly trailed up from her hand, which was cold from the sudden lack of contact.

“Marinette,” Adrien said, taking a step closer so their boots were touching.

His hand connected with the nape of her neck, tangling with the dry tresses of hair and he gently pulled her closer—within nose-length, if she had been taller. Marinette wetted her lips, watching in muted amazement as he leaned down, lips a breath away from hers, and she could clearly feel as he breathed. She gripped the material of his shirt at his chest, eyes locked with his as she wondered whether she should splutter and rave about what was to come, or continue to look at him with her serene expression, cheeks aflame and lips slightly open in surprise.

Her stomach rumbled, a sound eerily similar to that of clapping thunder, and his lips curled into a wide and familiar grin.

“Can I...” Adrien's voice was breathy, low, and cracked as he trailed off to gauge her reaction.

She nodded, glancing at him through her dark eyelashes, aware that he was leaning down further, lips ghosting over her and she could feel the slight warmth from his flesh. The grip of his shirt tightened, tugging him nearer and closing the minute distance between them. His lips were not insistent, needy or bruising from his enthusiasm. The hand on her neck was cradling her skin, fingers woven gently into the strands of hair as the pressure on her lips was feather-light and cherishing.

Their lips moved clumsily, teeth clashing a few times and catching the swollen flesh, and almost nipping each other accidentally from the movement. But after moments of loud breaths against each other, with Marinette moving closer to lean upon his chest, neck titled back desperately as she put pressure onto the tips of her toes, she daringly applied more pressure. A wonderful coil of warmth danced around in her stomach, shooting through her nerves and causing her pulse to thunder through her body. She felt _alive_ , and the sensations between them were shocking, inciting such warmth within her body, and it was so very intimate.

His hand trailed from the back of her neck to cradle her jaw, thumb tracing soothing patterns just below her ear, and the soft touches combined with constant pressure upon her lips stirred a breathy moan which was swallowed by his action. The feel of his leg that had slipped in between hers made her lean forward more, bunching her chest against his in an attempt for further friction, contact, warmth—

His tongue trailed languidly over her lower lip, and she moaned in response, accepting the advance with a noise of approval. The closed umbrella she had been holding fell to the floor, but the noise did not deter her. Marinette wove her hand within the soft strands of his hair, opening her mouth greedily at the offered pleasure. Adrien's hand mirrored her movements, gripping her hair with his fingers and tightening as she moaned openly into his mouth. And when he responded much the same, it only fuelled her reaction further. Her noises of pleasure were muffled and swallowed whole by his movements, her worries and anxiety of doing things not quite right soothed by the soft flicks of his tongue. They grew almost lazy with their movements, still clinging to each other with bodies touching and hushed breaths that were heated, arousal clear in their expressions.

Marinette shifted her hips, searching for much needed friction when her movement was cut off by a strangled gasp.

The blond pulled back an inch, gazing at her with an unreadable expression. His lips were red, swollen and glistening from the lights around them, and she assumed that she was in much the same predicament. Her lips curled into a victorious grin when she saw how mused his hair was at the back; golden strands sticking up at the sides, only slightly visible from his reddened ears.

“Marinette,” he murmured, voice so delightfully husky that it made her body tingle.

“Yes?” she whispered, cheeks aflame as he retrieved the hand from his hair, planting a kiss lightly onto the cool flesh.

With a grin, Adrien said, “I'd like to do this again.”

-x- 

It had taken Adrien three dates to ask her to be his girlfriend. Marinette recalled as he stuttered his words, self-consciously touching the nape of his neck as he corrected himself. They had finally gone for ice cream, and she'd managed to trip and spill the confectionery upon his shoes and covered her face with her hands, mortified. He'd laughed it off, however, and shared the rest of his ice cream with her while exchanging chaste kisses. After their particularly heated kiss they'd experienced on their first date, they had agreed with red faces to tone down their relationship slightly (meaning, they wanted to be _dating_ first).

Her journals were full of Adrien, completely. Chat Noir had been featured in the last one she'd finished many moons ago, and she had no qualms about it. When Adrien had asked about the sketches she'd always drawn throughout the years, asking whether she was going to submit her comic online or to any publishers, she had simply blinked and neither confirmed or denied the questions. It was common knowledge that she was very protective of her journals, so when he had asked to know more about the blond-haired male that he had glimpsed one day in the past, they had been dating for seven months.

They were within the calming pink walls of her bedroom, her parents busy working so they wouldn't disturb the couple—as they were very fond of Adrien, and insisted he needed to eat, still—and perched upon the pale pink sofa that had a blanket thrown over it for comfort.

Marinette hopped back from across the room, carrying a specific journal from her earlier teenage years, ready to open up and show him where her childhood heart had belonged.

Adrien smiled, scooting over on the couch to allow her to slip beside him. Marinette welcomed the warm limb over her shoulders as she settled in, flicking through the thick journal to find the page that she wanted to select.

For the seven months they had been dating, Marinette hadn't glimpsed the other world. Perhaps she had outgrown the heroes and villains that were featured there, or her happiness with the blond-haired male who was squeezing her gently at that moment was taking over—after all, her dreams had recently involved him, rather than a leather-clad male. The love she had felt for Chat Noir—still felt, it couldn't just _disappear—_ was naïve and child-like, not the thundering pulse and clammy hands inducing one that she had for Adrien; Adrien made her feel giddy with his kisses, especially when they were prolonged and teetered on the edge of being quite scandalous, and she felt absolutely cherished when he held her hand gently, or tentatively placed a kiss on her nose.

Running his lips softly against the skin of her neck, Adrien asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” she replied, voice slightly higher than usual from the feather-light kisses he began to place along the flesh of her neck. A noise of approval—or a moan—slipped through her lips when he bit teasingly by her jugular.

“Okay,” he murmured against her skin, trailing chaste kisses towards her jaw.

Her fingers found the correct page. Moving her head purposely, she bumped her cheek into his forehead to catch his attention.

Adrien was silent as he gazed at the small snippet of the journal he'd been shown—a simple two pages that illustrated Chat Noir's battle against a villain that she'd found humorous as a child.

Tracing a finger across a particular scene, Adrien commented, “I'm allergic to birds, too—not all, but these ones, yes.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” the blond confirmed. “It kind of looks like you've been drawing me, Marinette.”

She tilted her head to the side quizzically, and the movement made him laugh fondly, a pleasant noise that she'd never grown tired of. “No.”

“Yes,” he repeated, the dimples showing in his cheeks. “Look at the evidence here—blond hair, green eyes—my younger body, Marinette! And this bird allergy.”

If Chat Noir had ever revealed himself to the other Marinette, and had magically become Adrien in his civilian form, somehow, then she would have been overjoyed. Adrien was warm-hearted with a matching smile and a pleasure to be in the company of; if Chat Noir was him letting his hair down, figuratively, then Adrien was the slightly tamed and restrained version.

“That would've been nice,” she said. Her finger trails down the paper, indicating the date that it had been finished—three years before they had met.

“Perhaps you saw my posters,” he replied, not deterred from the reveal.

She blinked slowly, purposely. “No,” she repeated, closing the journal and setting it down on the floor. “You are not Chat Noir.”

“Maybe not,” Adrien agreed, raising a hand to run through the hairs at the nape of her neck, “but I could be.”

Mulling over the idea, imagining the red-faced Adrien uttering such flirty sentences with the air of confidence and borderline arrogance made her lips curl into a smile. “Yes,” she agreed, leaning forward for her lips to ghost over his, “but you're better.”

With a grin, Adrien closed the small distance between them to nuzzle her neck lovingly, peppering the skin with light kisses, and it was clear from the soft feeling of his lips that he was smiling during the action. Marinette tilted her neck to the side, allowing him a bigger canvas to work with, letting a sigh of pleasure escape her lips.

He had been adamant on treating her right when they'd began dating—carrying her books to classes they shared, attempting to pay for food that they'd purchased together before she swat his hands away with a exaggerated pout, and even thrusting his jacket in her hands when the weather was cold (only for it to backfire, as he shivered almost instantly every time). It had taken more than a few hopefully placed trails of her hand up his arm, gazing into his eyes and pleasing silently for their interactions to continue what they had started with their first date; but when they'd started, Adrien had _still_ been adamant that they wouldn't jump into bed together, despite how Marinette had shrugged her shoulders and uttered no refusals. He wanted to treasure her; treat her right, and extend the adventurous stage of their wandering hands more than usual.

“Adrien,” she murmured, stifling laughter as his teeth nipped playfully at her earlobes. She pawed at his chest, a shiver working through her body at the sensation. “I'm ticklish there.”

His reply fanned hot breath over the slightly wet skin. “I know.”

She shivered.

“I love you,” he whispered against her flushed skin, trailing light kisses along her jawline. When he reached her chin, his eyes flickered to her and all Marinette could focus on was the rosy dusting of pink that had appeared on the apples of his cheeks—much like hers, just the colour was diluted for him.

Her chin wobbled from trying not to laugh. “I know.”

The grin upon his lips grew, mischievousness appearing in his emerald irides and before she had a chance to regret the teasing reply, his teeth were tugging at the cartilage of her ear—blond hair brushing against her skin, breaths coming in quick pants as his hand gripped her waist with teasing, light fingers brushing against the exposed skin there. She could feel and _hear_ him chuckle in amusement, watching her squirm and shiver from the unexpected movement, and all he did in return was brush his fingertips along her side, teeth withdrawing from her sensitive flesh.

“What was that?” Adrien questioned.

Marinette huffed, pushing him away an inch or so by his chest. “I love you,” she corrected herself.

“Better,” the blond replied with smile, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. “At least you're honest.”

She blew air onto his face, grinning as he blinked in bewilderment.

When he opened his mouth to reply, Marinette tugged on his shirt—much like their first kiss—to connect their lips, smothering the comment he was about to make. He wound his hand that wasn't occupied with her waist into the dark tresses, tugging the band free to allow her hair to fall freely to her shoulders. Marinette laced her arms around his neck, taking a moment to marvel at how cool in temperature he was compared to her, and adjusted their position to press her spine into the back of the chair, allowing the male to gently place his leg between them. She wriggled to get comfortable, a breathy laugh escaping into their connected mouths when his elbow pressed into her side lightly.

“I a-paw-logise,” Adrien murmured, adjusting his arm.

Her laughter vibrated between their entwined lips. She tugged on the strands of his hair as an answer, and he responded by trailing his tongue lightly over her bottom lip. Marinette hummed, accepting the advance as she wriggled further into the sofa to become comfortable. The fingertips upon her waist trailed further, underneath the wire of her scarlet brassiere as their tongues tentatively moved. Their movements weren't awkward any longer—though, they were still quite clumsy in their haste. Marinette choked out a laugh when she almost bit his tongue, and he responded by pinching her lightly on the rib.

Nipping at his tongue, Marinette's breath hitched as his fingers trailed to her back, nails scratching the surface of her flesh teasingly. She shifted, allowing his fingers to deal with the back of the brassiere that had caused many a problem for him in the past—Marinette could recall fondly how dumbfounded he had been the first time he'd attempted to fiddle with the contraption, but the months of wandering hands and teasing words had caused his agile fingers to make easy work of the piece of clothing. As the pressure was released from her breasts, the brassiere sinking low and only just staying upon her flesh, he pulled back to flash her a triumphant smile.

Ignoring the smug expression, Marinette bat his wandering hands away with slightly narrowed eyes. She tugged the t-shirt over her head, shivering from the sudden cold air that came in contact with her burning skin, and when she looked up to see his expression, she was sure _she_ was the smug one then. Adrien was biting his lower lip, hands once again trailing her body as he stroked soothing patterns into her side. The shirt fell to the floor, and her eyes flickered to his clothing, hoping the intention would be clear. He was still marvelling at her body, though, so with a shy clear of her throat, Adrien flashed her a grin before catching on.

Even after countless times of seeing the blond scantily clad—in person, within magazines, on billboards and on television adverts at times, and even featured in fashion shows—her teeth still sank into her lower lip as she looked at him admiration; admiration that he wanted to share himself with _her_ , of all people.

“I'm glad you exist,” she blurted, cheeks warming up from her confession sounding like it had spilled from her counterpart's lips.

Adrien blinked. “Me, too,” he agreed.

There hadn't been a moment where she'd wished him to be anyone else. The tufts of golden hair upon his head were the ones she wanted to run her hands through, the viridian irides were the exact shade she desired, and the light dusting of hair that ran across his chest, beneath his navel _and—_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Adrien biting her shoulder to catch her attention. His grin was wolfish when they made eye contact; him looking through his golden-tinged eyelashes, his smile showing the slight dimples of his cheeks that she always wanted to caress—so she _did_. Marinette curled her hand around his soft cheek, thumb trailing over his dimple with a growing grin.

“This needs to be gone, too,” he murmured lowly, tugging the straps of her brassiere off, nails scratching her flesh along the way teasingly.

Cold air poured over her heated flesh, which was soon replaced with light kisses as Adrien trailed his way down from her shoulder—stopping briefly to bite her collarbone—and purposely peppered the pecks upon her breasts, breath ghosting upon the surface everywhere but where she desired the most.

Tugging on his hair slightly, Adrien grinned, lowering his head and enclosing the darkened flesh of her nipple into his mouth.

Her toes curled.

Her body felt taut from the building sensations within her stomach, the warmth that had spread to the space between her legs that was absent from the action, and a whine escaped her lips before she could restrain it.

Adrien laughed, voice breathy and breathing cool air upon her sensitive nub, causing shivers to travel through her body, toes twitching from the sensation. His teeth enclose the flesh moments after, sucking slightly and causing her to gasp aloud and tug _harder_ at his golden tresses, encouraging his movement further.

When his hand trailed to the bare flesh of her thighs, she realised idly that the soft cotton of her skirt had bunched up by her buttocks, allowing him free reign as he smoothed his palm across her open thigh. A moan escaped as their hips shifted, seeking frictions between them—and _oh_ , Marinette shuddered, feeling the bulge pressed between her legs purposely. She rolled her hips in response, encouraging him, head thrown back in pleasure from the stimulation of her breast and the sudden movement.

Her lips parted as she felt the outline of his member combined with the deliberately slow roll of his hips. Adrien's hand ghosted over her backside, squeezing the flesh as he parted from her swollen nub, placing a few chaste kisses as he disappeared. He leaned back, eyes catching hers as her head was against the back of the chair, chest heaving and cheeks flushed from his movement.

He grinned.

The heat within her abdomen twirled, circled and crashed into the relentless pulse between her legs.

The hand kneading her buttocks slipped down, further and further as the warmth disappeared along with him, a taunting finger trailing along the damp material of her underwear.

His grin grew.

Marinette gulped, teeth snagging onto her lower lip and biting down hard.

His finger traced over her protrusion, nail purposely dragging over the sensitive flesh and causing her to squirm before he continued upwards, toying with the material upon the top. Looking for confirmation with a glance, Marinette simply raised her eyebrows at him searching for permission. He didn't need more prompting than that, however, as his slender fingers tugged at the soft fabric, pulling her underwear down enough to glimpse at her aching flesh.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and if she hadn't been cut off with a gasp as his fingers ventured where the fabric had previously been, then she would have rolled her eyes at his compliments. Adrien stroked her with the tips of his fingers teasingly, lowering his head to pepper kisses along her exposed neck as the dark-haired female leaned back against the sofa, head thrown back in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

He didn't hesitate as he had in the past. As she realised a breathy moan as a single digit poked inside of her entrance, Adrien bit the flesh of her neck to divert her attention. The sensations were causing her to breathe deeply, loudly, chest heaving with every passing second as he caressed her sensitive flesh and slid another finger inside tentatively. There was a wet sound, terribly embarrassing and when they had first explored that area together she had blushed profusely and attempted to bat his hands away—instead of having the same reaction, Marinette rolled her hips further into his touch, releasing a sigh of satisfaction as the coiling within her stomach responded accordingly.

“Adrien,” she murmured, gasping in surprise as he bit into her neck as a reply. Shifting her hips, unintentionally causing his digits to reach further, brushing against a bundle of nerves—Marinette moaned, eyes falling closed.

She could feel his smile against her skin. “Yes?”

There was no chance to reply immediately, as his precise fingers pressed against that certain part inside her that made her toes curl, fingers clench and a moan to rip through her mouth. She gnawed on her lower lip to catch her attention, hands knocking upon his shoulders to try and expression her thoughts.

“Yes?” Adrien repeated, mischievousness clear in his voice as his fingers continued to move.

“Wait,” she gasped out. He complied to her request—finger still within her, thumb wandering and tracing along her cleft, connecting with her protrusion as his smile grew. Marinette's lip quivered, eyebrows scrunching as she willed herself not to succumb—

“Yes?” he asked, the glint within his eyes teasing.

Marinette blinked rapidly, hips unconsciously moving to greet his slowly rotating thumb to seek further pleasure. “Not yet,” she said, contradicting her movement. “I...”

As the blush grew along her ever-red cheeks, Adrien caught the meaning of her comment as she averted her eyes. “Are you sure?” he questioned, a finger hooking underneath her chin to urge her to look at him.

“Yes,” she replied, lips curling into a grin as she copied his words.

He audibly swallowed.

A whimper escaped as his fingers began to move again, lips pressing against hers to swallow the appreciate sounds that just kept _coming_. Marinette fisted his hair in her hands, hips moving in rhythm to his movements, and as she felt the coiling within her abdomen intensity again, she pulled back, swollen lips parted to breathe much needed air as he caught onto her predicament. Adrien's expression was smug, however, as he chastely kissed her lips, gnawing her lower lip momentarily before pulling back to begin to work on his own clothing further.

She tugged her underwear off, letting it fall helplessly to the floor alongside the rest of her clothing. The skirt soon joined, being covered instantly by his designer jeans and she sucked in a breath as his underwear fell on top of hers.

“Marinette,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her bare shoulder.

She hummed.

Their positions were soon much the same as before; Marinette with her back pressed against the bare sofa and arms around his shoulders, and Adrien caressing her backside in appreciation as their tongues tangled and she moaned freely.

He squeezed.

They parted, panting slightly with glistening lips and equally heated expressions.

“Hang on,” Adrien said lowly, kissing her cheek before leaning down to reach his clothing.

Despite how open they'd become with each other, she adamantly stared at the golden tresses of his hair as the tell-tale sound of foil crinkling sounded. Her cheeks were warm and she swore she couldn't have been any redder, yet seeing the blush that was _still_ upon his cheeks soothed her marginally—he was affected by her, and it was a boost to her ego and caused the pulse between her legs to beat steadily.

When they made eye contact, his were kind, searching for any signs of hesitation upon her expression. She supposed that she looked as dreamy-eyed as she had when they'd met, with the exception of her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips as he grinned, showing the small dimples of his cheeks.

“Marinette,” he called fondly, positioning himself to rest upon his elbows, chest hovering centimetres from hers.

She blinked. “Yes?”

He rolled his hips slowly, once again, a warmth pressing against her abdomen. She flushed, teeth biting at her lower lip for the countless time as he cradled her jaw. There was a few seconds of heated eye contact, Marinette wondering how she'd managed to snag him as he looked at her with such adoration, and placed kisses to her cheeks.

Shifting his hips, Marinette gulped as they rearranged their bodies to feel him pressed against her heated flesh, the pulse between her legs thundering and impatient.

The tip of his member pressed against her entrance, and she shifted her legs to allow better access, fingers curling into his skin as she held onto the flesh of his shoulders. He was tentative, slow, and caring—lips meeting hers to muffle her noises of discomfort, a gentle movement as he kissed her and edged himself inside, a hand steadying her waist for the right angle.

She gasped, a shuddering working through her body at the sensation. It wasn't necessarily painful—just foreign. She shifted, hissing in discomfort from the sudden movement.

He wasn't impatient. Adrien sucked on her lower lip, that she'd thoroughly abused by that time, briefly before releasing her lips with a chaste kiss, eyes searching hers after she'd opened them from when they'd been momentarily scrunched in surprise.

When she gave a tentative nod, fingernails curling into his skin in preparation, he responded with a subtle shift of his hips.

Marinette shivered.

There were kisses applied to her neck, the flesh becoming covered in various dark marks over time, as he whispered sweet words against her skin. Marinette moaned in response, breath hitching as he was fully sheathed inside. A few seconds ticked by as they regained their breath, the onslaught of sensations rendering their normal breathing gone, before Adrien tentatively moved his hips to reposition himself, almost pulling out fully from the movement.

Her moan was louder than before as his thrust was harder, purposeful, and not as hesitant as before—despite the pleasurable response she gave, the blond waited a few moments before shifting his hips again, and Marinette clawed desperately at his skin, attempting to raise her body for further movement.

She wasn't sure if she moaned his name.

His pelvis rubbed against her protrusion with every buck of his body, and soon there was a babbling of nonsense spouting from her lips as he hit that delicate bundle of nerves that felt just so _right_. The skin of his back was sure to be tarnished, yet she didn't care as he bit purposely onto her neck, the roll of his hips absolutely sinful as the pressure built within her. The pulse inside her head was deafening, the steady beat between her legs muffled from the sounds that were slipping from there lips.

She thought there wasn't anything more attractive than hearing him moan.

Pleasure rippled through her at a particularly harsh thrust, a loud moan escaping before she could muffle it, and the fact that Adrien responded to her noises by his hand tightening around her hip, nails pressing into her skin, and the following thrusts all using the qualities of the one previously spurred her on. Perhaps it was the loudest she'd been since they'd began, but the steady sound of their skin colliding, heavy breaths mingling combined with the entirely sinful feeling within her body meant she just didn't mind.

She moaned his name.

His tongue darted out, trailing a column of flesh along her neck.

The bubbling pleasure within her began to hit the brink. Marinette tightened her grip on his shoulders, legs buckling from the pleasure coursing through her body, and before she could take in a deep breath, the coiling had snapped. Her legs convulsed, clamping around him as she moaned loudly, head thrown back in pleasure with eyes slammed shut.

Panting when she became aware of the whispered sweet words against her neck, she realised that Adrien was experiencing much the same. He rutted against her desperately, and she watched his body in awe as he jerked forward, almost falling upon her body, as he moaned under his breath and held onto her for support as his body shuddered.

Her arms wrapped around him in an embrace, their heavy breaths almost in rhythm as they caught their breath and calmed down in each other's arms. He nuzzled against her cheek, mixing the tresses of their damp hairs together.

“I love you,” she murmured, shifting her hips.

She could feel his smile against her cheek. “That's the right cat-titude to have.”

Marinette laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) ( ˘⌣˘)♡


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